


The Curse of the Apple Pie

by JBMcDragon



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Crack, Fluff, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-08
Updated: 2013-05-08
Packaged: 2017-12-10 19:35:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/789374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JBMcDragon/pseuds/JBMcDragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The pie tasted terrific, too bad it was cursed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Curse of the Apple Pie

**Author's Note:**

> Written for LJ User jagfanlj for the prompt: Supernatural, Dean, The pie tasted terrific, too bad it was cursed.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Supernatural characters, or apple pie.

This hotel room was just as grungy as the rest of them, with paisley orange wallpaper and a partition that hadn't been washed in so long, Sam was pretty sure the dirt was holding it up. He slouched in a chair and scrolled through Google, head braced with one hand. The laptop screen glowed at him. He'd been staring at it for hours, and was beginning to see heaven on the other side.  
  
From the bathroom, he could hear Dean puking.  
  
"Haven't we done this?" he called out absently. "The rabbit's foot. The ballet slippers. What am I forgetting?"  
  
Dean's voice croaked from the bathroom, utterly betrayed. "It was  _pie_ , Sam! They cursed  _pie_! What sort of fucked up sorority sisters do that?"  
  
Since he rather doubted that Dean wanted an answer, he kept his mouth shut. Google hadn't gotten him very far; entering "cursed pie" had brought up a bunch of articles on the movie "Thinner" and various online art accounts. Unless someone had hidden the solution in a drawing of a deranged My Little Pony, this wasn't really getting Sam anywhere. He leaned back in his chair and rubbed his eyes.  
  
A phone call to Bobby earlier had mostly just led to laughter and variations on "Ijdit," and Dean hadn't been happy with Bobby's advice: wait it out.  
  
When Sam heard Dean stagger from the bathroom he looked up, and only the fact that this had been going on for hours kept him from snickering all over again.  
  
"I think I puked all the pie up," Dean groaned. He thumped against the wall, then slid bonelessly to the floor. His face was pale, big hands drooping between bent knees. "Is it better?"  
  
Sam considered the leaves already appearing in Dean's hair, vines growing slowly past the short locks, and allowed himself a smirk. "Maybe next time a strange woman says she wants you to eat her pie, you'll remember this."  
  
"First off," Dean began hotly, "it was clearly an invitation to a lot more than pie, all right? If a little homemade apple pie was the gateway to," he smirked, "a little homemade  _apple pie,_ I was happy to sacrifice!"  
  
"What sacrifice?" Sam muttered. "Two of your favorite things."  
  
Dean kept going as if Sam hadn't spoken. "And second off, who defiles pie like that?" He went silent, and Sam realized he was waiting for an answer. Sam didn't have to spend long thinking of one, though: Dean scrambled to his feet as an apple blossomed and bumped his shoulder, and charged for the bathroom again.  
  
Sam plucked his jacket off the back of the chair and stood, sliding his arms into it. "I'm going to get something to eat. You want anything?" He smiled. "Maybe some pie?"  
  
"I really hate you," Dean croaked. Leaves rustled and fell to the floor, and a moment later Dean bent over the toilet again.  
  
Laughing, Sam headed out the door.


End file.
